<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>what the fuck is glitter glue by orphan_account</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212938">what the fuck is glitter glue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Centricide (Webseries)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, makeup shenanigans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24212938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>homonationalism does anmon's makeup and then anmon does homonationalism's makeup and nothing weird happens at the end</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anarcho-Monarchy/Homonationalist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>what the fuck is glitter glue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>homonationalism is a morosexual</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop moving.” </p>
<p>Homonationalism furrowed his eyebrows. He was glad that Anmon had agreed to let him do his makeup, but he really sucked at staying still. Unfortunately, the monarchist was the only one he could practice doing makeup on. </p>
<p>Posadism was bright orange, so none of his foundation would match. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He thought back to when he asked Nazbol if he could do his makeup. It was the most high-pitched REEEEE-ing he had ever heard. Homonationalism swore that at one point it got too high-pitched to hear, like a dog whistle.</p>
<p>“You could have just said no.”</p>
<p>“Another libtard destroyed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Transhumanism didn’t like to take off his mask and doing his makeup wouldn’t be fun if Homonationalism did it against his will. Anprim ate his concealer once. So, that only left Anarcho-monarchy. </p>
<p>“That feels weird.” Anarcho-monarchy flinched a little when the wet sponge touched his face. “Hey, can I do your makeup when you’re done?” He asked the fascist.</p>
<p>“Yeah sure. Just stop moving.” Homonationalism dug around his makeup bag for a few moments. “I thought you told me that you’ve worn makeup before.”</p>
<p>“It’s been a while.” Anmon looked at himself in the mirror. “My eyebrows are gone.”</p>
<p>“You’ll get them back.”</p>
<p>“There’s power in my hair.”</p>
<p>“Does the carpet match the drapes?”</p>
<p>Anmon laughed. “Homonationalism, you really are my favorite vassal. You know my room doesn’t have a carpet. I mean, you’re in my room right now!”</p>
<p>The fascist rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” </p>
<p>Homonationalism put a hand on Anmon’s cheek to keep him from moving too much. “Why are you squinting? It’s just eyeliner.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure. It’s just weird having something like that so close to my eyes. It’s so pointy.”</p>
<p>Homonationalism sighed. “You’re impossible.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>The fascist shook his head, but he smiled back at him.</p>
<p>“What’s in your hand?” Anmon pointed to a clear tube in Homonationalism's hand.</p>
<p>“Glitter glue.”</p>
<p>“Like super glue?”</p>
<p>“Yes, exactly like super glue.” Homonationalism said sarcastically.</p>
<p>“So, I’m stuck with it on my face forever?”</p>
<p>“Yep, you can’t take it off.”</p>
<p>Anmon sighed. “Okay, let’s do this.”</p>
<p>“You’re so dramatic.”</p>
<p>“You own a lot of glitter.” </p>
<p>“Mhm…”</p>
<p>“But your face isn’t covered in glitter.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh…”</p>
<p>“You’re pranking me. You shouldn’t prank your king!”</p>
<p>“Be quiet. Just close your eyes.” Homonationalism held his cheek again and began to pat on the glue, followed by fine, red glitter under his eyes.</p>
<p>Anmon leaned into his touch and frowned a little when he moved his hand away to work on his other eye.</p>
<p>“Can I give you fake eyelashes?”</p>
<p>“Is there more glue involved?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>“You’re no fun.”</p>
<p>Anmon struggled to keep himself from closing his eyes as Homonationalism applied his mascara. </p>
<p>“I’m done.”</p>
<p>“Wow. I kind of look like an asshole.”</p>
<p>Homonationalism rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>“It is my turn now, right?”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Great.” Anmon stood up and searched through one of his drawers, smirking when he found what he was looking for. He moved the hand mirror that Homonationalism had brought. “No peeking.”</p>
<p>“What the hell are you doing?” The fascist felt something similar to children’s face paint cover his entire… face.</p>
<p>“You’ll see.”</p>
<p>“You <em> are </em> an asshole.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but I’m done now.” Anmon proudly held the mirror in front of the fascist, looking way more smug than he usually did. </p>
<p>Homonationalism looked at himself in the mirror. He was a horrifying mess of black and white face paint. He looked around Anmon’s bedroom and it all clicked. The bottles of Faygo on the floor, the posters on the wall. “Jesus Christ…” </p>
<p>Anmon is a fucking juggalo. </p>
<p>Homonationalism looked at him again, hoping for an explanation or for him to tell him it was a prank, but he got nothing. All he got was a sentence that sent shivers up his spine, a small phrase that made his skin crawl.</p>
<p>“Whoop whoop.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Jesus fucking Christ. </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>this is my headcannon.</p>
<p>i will not be taking criticism.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>jesus fucking christ</p>
<p>don't ask questions unless you're asking to read my poem titled "faygo monologue."<br/>it is exactly what it sounds like</p>
<p>motherfucking miracles</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>